


Birthday Boy

by Fae_King



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Birthday, Cute, Fluffy, Frukus - Freeform, Gay, M/M, Mild Cursing, Multi, OC's - Freeform, Polyamory, Religion, Tumblr request, three-way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fae_King/pseuds/Fae_King
Summary: Yes, yes, I know. This is a shitty story. And I feel immensely bad about producing this, however, it was Tumblr request and I always finish and publish them (granted that it may be two months later, but that is beside the point.)With that out of the way,YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.





	Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know. This is a shitty story. And I feel immensely bad about producing this, however, it was Tumblr request and I always finish and publish them (granted that it may be two months later, but that is beside the point.)
> 
> With that out of the way,  
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The faint sound of birds chirping awoke a particular emerald eyed strawberry blond from his peaceful slumber. Blinking the drowsiness from his eyes, the Englishman turned his gaze to the ever so slowly rising sun and sighed. A certain morning chill hung in the air and threatened to attack if anyone who dared to leave the warmth and protection of the comforter. A part of the Brit was very adamant about staying put and dutifully curling into the Frenchman’s gentle rising and falling chest, but, unfortunately, there was far too much work to be done.

Silently as a pygmy rabbit, Arthur slipped from the King sized bed, leaving his lovers to bask in the warmth as he crept slowly from the room to the disgustingly vocal staircase. Biting his crimson lip, Arthur tried not to cringe at each step that screamed in rebellion when his barefoot touched it’s sanded surface.

“Damn you!” He scolded the poorly constructed staircase in a hushed tone as he continued his creep down, wincing at the ungodly shrills. “Do you wish to ruin Alfred’s birthday you twit?!” The wood graced the man with no reply as Arthur safely and stealthily removed his weight from the whining steps. “Just know this, I am going to replace you if you continue this.” The glossed wood again held it’s tongue, leaving Arthur to huff in irritation as he quietly marched away in search for any articles of clothing.

To his surprising and unprecedented luck, Arthur found a comfortable pair of business slacks that were heavily laced with a French cologne the Brit had learnt to know and love. Without a moment’s hesitation, the pants were slipped on and were immediately examined on how they clung to the blond’s curvier than average form. It was true that the charming ‘Nation of Love,’ was a bit of a squared cut man but the pants did not fail to accommodate themselves to Arthur’s more feminine assets. Another truth, Francis was also a good three to four inches taller than the blond Brit thus causing the pant legs to pool around his feet, however, despite this, there was a simple cure.

Rummaging around the dust collector, formerly known as the shoe cabinet, the emerald-eyed Brit found his pair of British laced up, leather, pointed toe, ankle boot heels collecting shameful amounts of dust and cobwebs. He had been afraid to wear them in public, he had always been ridiculed for being a tad bit ‘girlyer’ than the rest of the boys when he was a young nation and the fear of the village disapproving or worse was instilled into his every fiber. However, Arthur sucked in a deep breath and fastened them to his feet, the past could not harm him if he forbade it too, plus, his boyfriends have always told him he looked absolutely stunning in men’s heels.

Brushing himself off and beaming with confidence, Arthur had begun the hunt for a shirt as he made an effort to muffle the heels as they clicked. Thankfully, a conveniently placed white button-up shirt was strewn across the sofa waiting for him. It did not take long as he slipped his pale freckled arms into the narrow sleeves and buttoned the studs in their designated holes.  
Adjusting his collar, Arthur felt a draft creep in from a cracked window and violently shivered before cursing to himself.

“God fucking damn it, Alfred! Are you trying to get us murdered?” Bitterly shuffling to the window, he placed his fingertips on the seal and pulled down, ignoring the pain that was caused by the window’s reluctance to close. “Damn you,” he growled threateningly, trying to refrain from beating some sense into the glass. “When I get paid you are also on my hit list.” Dusting himself off, Arthur trotted back into the common room and stretched, willing the rest of his drowsiness to dissipate.

The chill that trickled in through the window clung to the colonially styled walls forcing another shiver out the Brit’s body. Naturally, Arthur found himself searching for a suitable coat, not long after, he found the American’s bomber jacket and carelessly slipped it on before snatching his keys from the entryway stand. Stealing a moment to glance at the loudly ticking clock, the blond noted the time and mentally created a strict schedule he was to follow. Taking no time to adjust his outrageous bedhead, the English nation stepped out in the summer chill, paying no mind to the playful animals who desperately tried to convince him to stay awhile, and headed directly to the small automobile he personally owned.

The Mercedes was just where he left her the night previous, and it caused Arthur to smile widely, it wasn’t like anyone was going to steal a car when they resided in the middle of a forgotten forest, but still. It was always a pleasant sight to see his beautiful slick black vehicle waiting for him every morning. Shaking the thought from his head, the blond was quick to de-arm the car of her defenses and slid in.

The soft leather of the car was frozen to the touch, making it rather uncomfortable to lounge in, however, Arthur was on a mission and he would be damned if anything prevented him from being able to complete it. Turning his head back while resting his hand on the empty passenger seat, Arthur skillfully pulled out of the tight spot and mentally cursed Francis for convincing Alfred that parking their own vehicles closely to his own would be a brilliant idea.

Finding himself successful in his quest of escaping the tight position the other men had him in, the gentleman calmly cruised down the brightly coloured road and down to the nearest town. He wasn’t going to lie, it was a small thing, not many people chose to live their due to the fact that it was hidden with in a seemingly impenetrable forest. However, it was a lovely place, people were not finding themselves having to rush from one place to another and over all the populace were friendly. Well, of course, if you dismissed the out-dated priest who screamed that Arthur was that of the devil and should be ridden from this world. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he could never seem to shake their inaccurate beliefs, he had done everything in his power to help the community and to convince those old men that he was not the devil’s firstborn but nothing seemed to work… It… it was starting to scare him.

 _‘It could be worse.’_ He gently thought to himself, the people themselves found Arthur to be quite charming and a gentle creature rather than what the religious leaders were spewing out. _‘At least it is no longer the witch trials. Or else I’d be fucked….Again.’_ A shiver ran down the Brit’s body as he tightened his grip on the wheel, focusing on the road and the building that past him by.

“Well,” He muttered to himself, glad that the drive was now complete. “Now all we need do is find Alfie a cake, you can do this Kirkland.” Sucking in a deep, determined, breath Arthur walked into the only bakery in town, trying to ignore the ‘God hates Fags’ sign.

The shop smelled wonderful as usual and Arthur noticed that a plethora of unmarked cakes were propped up, waiting to be bought. It was odd, the Brit half expected that he’d have to make a two-hour drive north to get a cake due to this shop being empty because of the national holiday.

“Oh! Hello Mr. Kirkland, it is so nice to see you again.” A young man chirped from behind the counter, wiping his floured hands against his blue apron leaving distinct handprints. “What can I do for you today?”

“Hello Patrick, it is nice to see you as well,” The Brit greeted with a wide smile, glad that the boy’s father wasn’t manning the shop today. “It is Alfred’s Birthday today and I thought it would be nice to get him a cake for the occasion. Have any recommendations?” The young boy furrowed his brows and thought for a minute before snapping his fingers and disappearing into the back room.

“He is super patriotic right?” Partick hollered out from the kitchen, scouring the refrigerator, looking for the stunning cake he made that morning.

“I am afraid so!” Arthur called back in a joking manner causing the boy to laugh before bringing out a three-tiered cake decorated with edible pearls and swirling star toppers. “Oh, he is going to love it. How much?” Correction, Arthur loved it, it was so cute. The layers where slanted giving it an Alice in Wonderland feel along with the red, white and blue, diamonds and stripes that lined the first and second layer.

“Mmm,” Patrick thought to himself for a moment before settling on an amount. “Twenty, I can also put the age he is turning on the second tier if you want.” Arthur’s emerald irises widened at the low price. Surely the standard price for a cake this elaborate would be in the high fifties.

“I-uh yeah that would be nice. And you have worked hard on this, at least let me pay you forty.” The younger male shook his head and responded that twenty would have been fine. “Please? Fine, I’ll pay you twenty and then leave a twenty dollar tip. How about that?” Patrick sighed and shook his head with a smile before he eventually caved.

“Alright, alright, how old is he turning?” He asked as he shuffled around flattening grey edible mold.

“He is turning twenty-one this year, he is really excited since he’ll be able to legally drink.” The young man responded with a ‘wow’ and then proceeded to comment on how young he was. “Yeah, I suppose I am not much older, I am only twenty-three years old. Now Francis is the old man in the relationship. He is turning twenty…seven I believe?” Arthur released a giggle as he watched Patrick gawked at how young they were completely unphased by the Brit confession of being apart of a polyamorous relationship.

“And wa-la! Please tell Francis and Alfred I said Hello and Happy Birthday.” Arthur nodded with a smile and set down two twenty bills and started to head before he saw the boy’s backpack.

“Oh, and remember what I said about my willingness to help you in English and Science.” Nodding, Patrick gave a thumbs up as he placed the money in the cash register, watching the blond ease through the small doorway.

“Will do! Bye, Mr. Kirkland. Drive safely!” The boy called out before returning to his duties of caring for the shop and baking more cakes.

“Bye Patrick!” Sighing, the Brit placed the about thirty bound cake in the back, wedged between the seats, ensuring it stays in place.

“Alright, next step is to go to the store and pick up supplies and maybe a little something for Francis.” Like the bakery, there was only one grocery store. However, this shop was run by a secular man so the blond shouldn’t find any problems, well at least problems revolving around his sexual orientation.

The drive was brief and Arthur feared to go too fast, he didn’t want to have to explain why he brought home a half-ruined cake for his boyfriend. Not to mention Alfred deserved so much more. Sighing, the blond found a relatively close parking space to the medium sized shop and placed his vehicle in park, trying not to notice how many people that were giving him odd looks.

“Do it for Alfie. Do it for Alfie.” Arthur whispered to himself as his hands slid softly of the wheel and found themselves on the silver door handle. Before stepping out of the car, the emerald-eyed Brit took a quick glance at the digital clock and internally screamed. The Alarm Francis had set would go off in an hour!

Jumping from his seat and on onto the asphalt, Arthur ran to the sliding doors in search for the alcoholic beverage and party isle. Frantically running around, a slew of brightly coloured streamers caught his eye and he nearly bawled when he saw that everything he needed was there. Moving quickly, Arthur snatched rainbow coloured napkins, matching plates, decorative trays, deflated balloons, helium and black wrapping paper with thin golden swirls.

Strangely satisfied with the collection of supplies, the blond stole a basket from the stand and rushed to the register but not before grabbing multiple bottles of various fine champagnes.

“Hello, Mr. Kirkland.” A young woman greeted Arthur with a bright smile as he came upon the register and began set his things on the conveyor belt. “Did you find everything alright today?”

“Ahh, yes, thank you, Miss Scarlet. How have you been?” The red-headed teen nodded as she began to scan his items going through her long day. “Wow, that sounds horrible and tell your boyfriend I’ll whoop his ass if ever does that to you. That is a promise, my dear.” Scarlet let out a soft chuckle as her strikingly similar emerald eyes watched amused as Arthur had trouble gathering his bags.

“You got it there Mr. Kirkland?” The young red-headed woman mused causing the Englishman to huff and send a dirty yet playful glare.

“Yes Ms. Barnes,” Arthur coed sarcastically, gathering the bags on his arms ready to turn his heel and head home. “Anywho, goodbye my dear, and tell your darling grandmother that I said hello and I said thank you for the cookie recipe, Alfie and Francis absolutely love it.” The red-headed teen smiled with a huff and rolled her eyes, more than likely teasing her grandmother and Arthur for being so close.

“Alright, drive safe Mr. Kirkland and I’ll be sure to tell her.” The young lady waved as the blond exited the building and rushed to his car, desperate to get home.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I only have a half hour!” Sweating bullets, Arthur gentle set the bags in the back seat beside the cake and hopped into the driver’s seat, feverishly pulling out of the small parking lot. “Okay,” glancing at the clock again Arthur began to formulate a plan as he sped down the one-way street back to the house. “So, they will be up in twenty minutes… fuck.” Taking a deep breath in, the blond swiftly parked in his spot then retrieved the bought items from the back seat and quickly scurried into the house to set up.

Being careful not to make a sound, Arthur crept to the closet and pulled out gifts that needed to be wrapped. It may have been from muscle memory or sheer talent, but Arthur got all three gifts wrapped less than five minutes and neatly placed them beside the cake. Tapping his index finger on his chin thoughtfully, he scanned the table admiring all the non-burnt food he cooked the night previous as they peacefully rested on the plastic, yet charming trays.

“Ah, one more thing.” Practically dancing to the china cabinet, Arthur retrieved two wine glasses and placed them gently on the white silk tablecloth beside the pink and white champagne. “Now, all we do is wait.” Moving his understandably tired body to the couch, a brilliant idea came over him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the Brit waltzed to the old American record player and flipped through the records before he found what he was looking for. Removing the case from its designated spot, the Englishman slid the record onto the player and contently smiled as soft jazz wafted throughout the room.  
The gentle melody must have woken the two men up from their blissful slumber because Arthur heard grunts and groans of tired men emerge from the bedroom.

“Good morning doll face, what is with the jazz? Not that I am complaining.” A deep drowsy New Yorker accent called out from the top of the staircase. “And why are you up so early?” The question caused Arthur to smile, partly because of the accent and partly because of anticipation, surprising the loveable American was always his favorite activity to do.

“Because I had to do something for the Birthday boy! Surprise!” Once Alfred registered the words and saw the gifts he turned beet red out of embarrassment and flattery. “Oh, come on! Do not be like that! Where is Francy? I got him champagne.” Not a second later, padding footsteps could be heard as Francis traveled down the halls.

“Did my ears deceive me? Or is it true that my little Angleterre has champagne?” To the Frenchman’s enthusiasm, Arthur couldn’t help but to giggle and smile fondly at the older man as he peered down brightly at the carbonated beverage on the table. “Oh! I also have a few things for you as well Alfred.” Before either man could utter a word, the blond was gone and rummaging throughout the bedroom, leaving Arthur and Alfred adequate time to talk.

“You didn’t have to do this baby.” The American said, his charming accent slipping into something more common, something more Californian.

“I am aware.” The Brit hummed, watching in amusemnt as Alfred move passed the record player and next to him. “Do you not like it?” A confused look painted itself onto the other man’s face as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Of course I do, how could I not? It is all very amazing my dear.” A twenties vibe clung to the blue-eyed American’s voice as he planted soft kisses on the Brits pale cheeks and crimson lips. “I love anything from you.”

“Except my tea. You little twit.” Arthur joked, causing the other blond to laugh softly as a Frenchman came back down the stairs with two neatly wrapped presents. “Mmm, let’s open your presents shall we? No need to make us wait any longer than we have my love.”

“Alright, alright. What do want me to open first?” Without hesitation, Francis shoved a brightly coloured box onto the younger blond’s lap and smiled widely. “Okay. lemme guess, clothes.” A soft pout etched itself on the Frenchman’s face as he watched Alfred tear away the paper.

“1 point for Alfred.” The blond joked as he smiled at the suit. “Thank you, babe.” The American leaned over and lightly pecked the no longer pouting boyfriend.

“You are welcome, now onto Arthurs lame gifts” Giving a snort of distaste, Arthur leaned over both men and open a drawer on the small coffee table revealing three wrapped gifts.

“Here, open this first.” Handing the man the largest box, the Brit waited with a large smile. “Come! Open it.”

“Alright, Alright.” Alfred chuckled and began to unwrapped Arthur’s carefully wrapped gift and gawked at what he saw. “Oh, where on Earth did you find these?!” Removing the cups from their small box, the American closely examined them with a smile, surprised and glad to see a plethora of chemical bonds and equations.

“The internet is a wonderful place, my love,” Arthur said quietly with a huge smile, happy to see Alfred enjoyed this gift.

“You know me so well-” Alfred started before Arthur plopped two other beautifully wrapped gifts. “Arthur. Why did you get me three? Both Francis and I only gave you one gift for your birthday.” He whined with a small pout etched itself on his tanned face.

“Yes. But last year and the year before that I gave Francis three as well.” At the sound of his name, the Frenchman shifted from his relaxed position and purred before hosted the small Brit onto his lap in a loving manner. “Granted one of them was sex, but three gifts nonetheless,” Arthur added with a small laugh as the old Frog clung to his small frame.

“Good lord,” The American huffed through a smile as he watched the two men fondly before he began to unwrap his second gift. “Ah! Sweet dude! Thanks.” Flipping the small card over, he noticed that the card was for one of his many favourite hunting shops.

It took Alfred a hot minute to unwrap this last one, the small box was layered in outrageous amounts of clear packing tape and was wrapped several times. Perplexed by this odd method, Alfred cast a glance at his lovers and their ear-splitting grins. Furrowing his thin brows, the superpower found himself more eager to discover what his little English brat conjured up this time.  
Several moments later, the American finally got down to a small, soft velvet box with a golden locket and emitted a softly smile.

“If you are going to ask me to marry you, the answer is,” Arthur arched a row in confusion with a weary smirk at the man’s sly features. “No.” There was a moment of silence and slack jaws before Arthur made a scoffing sound.

“Well,” Francis started with a snort of amusement. “Didn’t we agree we were going to propose since he is our little black sheep of Europe.” Arthur again scoffed as he turned his body and casted a dark glare at the man he comfortable situated on.

“I thought he was our little Brat?” Alfred said in an attempt to conceal his giggles as Arthur crossed his arms and held an unamused look.

“Look here you wankers, I am not a sheep nor a brat, I am Arthur Bloody Kirkland, the mightiest Imperial Kit-Empire this world has ever seen!” Arthur stumbled out and huffed in annoyance when Alfred sent his a suggestive glance before he began patting his lap, wanting the smaller male to rest on him now.

“Wait,” Alfred began with a playful dark glance as he stole Arthur from the Frenchman’s lap. “Doesn’t Ivan call you Kitten or Kitty?” There wasn’t a fleck of malice or jealousy in his voice as he playfully the acknowledged the truth.

“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” Francis agreed, a bit bitterly. “ I don’t like it.”

“Oh my lord, you are going to get Francis’ knickers in a twist and you know it. Just open your damn present.” The Brit said with a heavy sigh as he began to decline against the American’s strong, warm chest.

Without a word, Alfred took his orders and unhooked the golden lock from the box and slowly opened it. He wasn’t at all prepared for the attack on his eyes, he thought the jewelry was just going to be an ordinary store-bought ring but no, Arthur always had to go the extra mile.  
Taking the faded ring from the box, Alfred allowed it to tumble through his fingers as he relished in its nearly forgotten weight. Taking a moment to further examine the item he smiled widely when he noticed that it was in pristine condition considering its age.

“How-where-” The large man choked out as he tightly held his lover and buried his face into his neck. “Where did you find this?” Alfred question in awe.

“Oh, well darling,” Arthur said with a content sigh as he traced the grooves and markings on the ring. “It was in my attic and I thought it should be with its owner rather than little old me.” The man beside them came closer and smile lightly, knowing that Arthur stole Alfred’s favour this year.

“Sacrebleu, I knew you had this but I didn’t know you took such good care of it.” Wrapping an arm around the sobbing American, the Frenchman brought him and the little Brit into a loving embrace.

“Of course,” Arthur softly said, fiddling with the younger male’s golden hair. “It would be wrong of me if I didn’t, it isn’t mine.”

“Sorry Frany, but Artie is the best boyfriend in the entire world.” Alfred giggled through tears as he slipped the ring back onto his thumb and glowed joyfully.

“Yes, Yes, I have always been the best, Francis knows.” Arthur boasted as he sat in a condescending manner on his lover’s lap. “Anywho, I also bought cake and champagne,” Before either man before he could open their mouths the Brit interjected. “I know what I say about eating sugary food and alcohol before twelve, but this is a special occasion. So, ONLY for today, I don’t give a fuck.”

Naturally, both men cheered and Alfred nearly threw the small Brit off of his lap as he ran into the kitchen, eager for the mound of sugary goodness he was blessed with. Chuckling to himself, Arthur picked himself up and brushed himself off pleased that he did well this year, he had always felt guilty for all the birthdays he missed while he and the American were spilt, so this was the least he could do.

Shaking his the thought from his head, Arthur pivoted on his heels and headed towards his two lovers, deciding that his emotional bagged could be dealt with on another day.


End file.
